Red Lavender
by Placidmage
Summary: Tsuzuki and Hisoka are faced with a puzzling case, but when they finally think they have the murderer cornered, the murderer catches them instead... in a mystery that will mess with their minds, and with their hearts. (my first YnM fanfiction. TBC? ^^)


A/N: Hello and welcome to the first installment of Red Lavender! This is my first Yami no Matsuei fanfiction, so I'm going to say straight-out that I don't own anything within the writing, just the writing itself, so you can't sue me. Since I'm new to this section, I'll warn you I like to write . . . If you give me good feedback, I'll be sure to hold up my end of the bargain, though be warned I'm not very good with schedules. ^_~  
  
This is a romantic supernatural mystery which begins as Tsuzuki and Hisoka think they are about to close a case when they find themselves imprisoned by a merciless murderer, who only seems to want to play with their minds . . . and their hearts. There will be some humor, but there will also be some angst. I'm pretty good at balancing, but just tell me if one seems to lie to heavy or overpower the other. Nothing is cast in stone.  
  
Heads-up: Tsuzuki and Hisoka pairing, and vice versa  
  
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Part 1: Il ne pleut pas  
  
"For after all, the best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain."-- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow  
  
Begin:  
  
In August 4th of the year 2004, partnered Shinigami Akato Tsuzuki and Hisoka Kurosaki, are still anticipated to arrive at the ministry of Hades for their weekly report on a single case which has yet to be resolved even after nearly six months of investigation. As noted by their superiors, partners Tsuzuki and Kurosaki had been letting their performances slip over the past few years. With fewer cases and less necessity for Shinigami, the mystery usually became paperwork and the excitement translated to choosing the color of the pen you might use to fill it all out.  
  
However, the two were nowhere near headed to the ministry of Hades, because, as always, Tsuzuki had found some kind of excuse not to be where he was supposed to be.  
  
"Do you even know where you're going?" an irate voice hissed from underneath a veil of water cascading down around him. The noise that pelted on the hood of his raincoat made it difficult to hear the reply from the voice that swept through the small space of rain and air that divided them. A flood of murmuring was all that came through.  
  
"I can't hear you!" Hisoka raised his voice suddenly, tilting his head slightly upwards to see where the murmuring came from only to have water splashed in his face. As he turned away it leapt down his chin and onto the warm clothing inside that he had tried so hard to keep dry.  
  
"We're going . . .," The taller man forced the words quickly, hastening his pace, and Hisoka responded, leaning noticeably forward to keep from lagging behind, but only caught half of what Tsuzuki tried to tell him, ". . . We're going to . . . is to say . . . a lead on the case . . . talk inside."  
  
Hisoka was about to open his mouth to tell his partner that he hadn't heard a word that he said, but ceased as soon as he heard the word 'inside'. He seemed a little relieved, at least, that his partner was finally coming to terms with what an awful idea it was to come out in this weather. If the rain didn't scream 'dismal' down upon them, the pavement might as well have. It was littered with puddles that had come only within the past half hour of pouring that was as persistent in its purpose as Tatsumi was with expense regulations.  
  
Therefore, trusty black umbrella in hand, Tsuzuki continued to walk awkwardly down the street in shorter, hastened strides as he tried to avoid as much contact with water as possible. Every block or so, he'd look to his left at the figure hidden beneath a yellow raincoat that followed grudgingly beside him. The taller man with his umbrella flinched instinctively at the thoughts that he knew full-well were brewing underneath that yellow hood. Most of them probably had to do with the fact that the rest of London had sense enough to stay inside on a day like today.  
  
But, actually, Tsuzuki had found it odd that there were no people or cars on the streets. Even for an abysmal day as this, there should at least be a bus or a trolley, but. . . nothing. Especially since the power had gone out nearly all of this district, you would expect that people would come out to go to the nearest restaurant, perhaps, but he didn't fuss over it particularly. After all, they had a case to solve, and he had this feeling that tonight was the night. After six months of wretched research they would finally find this murderer and bring him to justice.  
  
Stopping only a moment, Tsuzuki looked up to his left and back at the note he had jotted down in his hand. Through the bleeding ink, the older Shinigami quickly deciphered '81 Harrison Ave.' This was definitely the place, although he didn't remember seeing it there before. You would think he'd remember something this huge and this creepy. Upscale restaurants had always scared him, especially the old establishments, but this was just ridiculous. He couldn't imagine why anyone would dine there unless under some kind of obligation as they were.  
  
"Hurry up!" Tsuzuki motioned behind him as he made a quick run for the other side of the street, almost leaving Hisoka behind as his younger partner waited to check the street for cars, though they hadn't seen one since the main street, before running across the street to catch up.  
  
Ducking inside the elegantly ornamented mansion doorway, Tsuzuki deflated his umbrella with the push of a button. Wiping his wet hands on his long jacket, lavender eyes looked sympathetically at his shivering partner. It was perhaps the only time he'd ever seen the empath shuddering for reasons that did not involve his spiritual awareness, or so he thought.  
  
Actually, Hisoka wasn't getting a very good feeling about this place at all, but it could have been interpreted either way.  
  
"You're soaked." Tsuzuki commented nonchalantly, smiling regretfully at the scowl he received as Hisoka removed his raincoat which hadn't served its purpose very well.  
  
"Here," the older Shinigami held out his trench-coat, "you'll catch cold if you don't put on something dry."  
  
Hisoka grunted indignantly, turning the garment away, "I'll be fine. But what's this nonsense about a lead? We're supposed to be at the ministry right now. Why can't we discuss it there?"  
  
"There's going to be another murder," Tsuzuki narrowed his eyes at their surroundings.  
  
"But we have all the pieces. The murderer gave us his message, there's no point-" Hisoka widened his eyes in surprise as his partner as Tsuzuki put a finger to his lips to tell him now was not the time to question, so all he could do was wonder what had led his partner to such a confident conclusion. Hisoka looked around quickly to see if anything might give him a clue as to what Tsuzuki had determined.  
  
It was an upscale restaurant, though undoubtedly old, and there didn't seem to be any people in it at present. He guessed it made some measure of sense considering the rain as he looked at the hand-painted ceiling, where there seemed to be four different scenes occurring. The first depicted a room with a large window across the face of it with drapes drawn to the side. The second depicted some kind of a dungeon . . . a stairwell with stairs that almost seemed to float in midair. The third had a picture of two winged people. . . Hisoka supposed they were angels. One looked almost surprisingly like Tsuzuki, he thought absent-mindedly. The fourth picture was faded except for one ragged corner and a line across it diagonally that came out quite clear so that the picture looked as if it were an arrow.  
  
Hisoka shuffled his feet absent-mindedly. He recalled all of the four victims had been quite wealthy, and might have visited a place like this quite a few times, so it was no surprise they would have such magnificent paintings on the ceiling.  
  
As Hisoka lowered his gaze to eye level, he noticed Tsuzuki had gone, and turned quickly in anger to find him at a table looking at one of the menus.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?!" The blond's emerald eyes turned a dark shade as he grasped the sides of his partner's table.  
  
"Quiet, Hisoka," Tsuzuki whispered cautiously, "You'll attract attention."  
  
"We aren't eating here. This visit is strictly on professional terms." He lowered his voice, though still just as angered, ". . . unless this entire idea of yours is just an excuse to come here."  
  
Tsuzuki looked hurt, and avoiding the portrayal of this emotion, averted his eyes back to the menu, "I know you don't trust me, but this case calls for subtlety. If you sit down, I'll be happy to try and explain."  
  
"Fine," Hisoka sat down reluctantly. His wet and previously comfortable cardigan stuck to the back of the wooden chair.  
  
"What street address are we at? Do you know?" Tsuzuki asked, careful to state his evidence in proper order.  
  
"81 Harrison Avenue," Hisoka answered instantly, and the brown-haired man raised his eyebrows in surprise. He was expecting to have to give Hisoka an answer. The empath just smiled. He wouldn't have known if he hadn't read his partner's mind.  
  
"Alright then, you haven't forgotten about these, I hope," Tsuzuki reached into his left coat pocket and pulled out four torn pieces of bloody cloth and placed them on the table, one for each murder committed, found draped over the respective victim's wound.  
  
"How could I forget? . . . Those are the only material evidence we have of the crimes committed, but all the pieces of the handkerchief are here. I thought the murders would be over because he's made his point." Hisoka sighed in confusion as he placed the lengthwise strips in sequential order side by side. Written beneath the deep concealing red, each strip of handkerchief had a letter written on it in deep black ink. Together, in the order the crimes were committed, they showed H A H A. Hisoka looked at Tsuzuki sourly as if it were the first time he had seen this.  
  
"We already know that he's laughing at us, but I don't see what that has to do with anything, except that we're the ones he's after. I thought the next murder would be . . . well, attempted, at least . . . one of us."  
  
"I agree. That's why we came here. He's not only laughing at us, that was a message. 'H' is the eighth letter of the alphabet, and 'A' is the first. Similarly 'Harrison' begins with 'H' and 'Avenue' with 'A'. That's the address, 81 Harrison Avenue." Tsuzuki said calmly.  
  
"Look, they don't even make a handkerchief when you put them together," the older Shinigami picked up the small cloth napkin beside his plate, and held it to examination against the bloody strips, "The design in the corner is the same. Check it against your own napkin if you like. This is definitely the place."  
  
Completely ignoring the stunned white face to his side Tsuzuki brightened into a smile carelessly to call over the waiter, waving his hand in the air enthusiastically, "Garcon~! Two peach tarts, please~!"  
  
The waiter gazed over in their direction, almost sympathetically, but nodded in acknowledgement at his overly-animated customer, and made his way to the kitchen. Meanwhile, Hisoka who looked blankly at the glass in front of him, felt like someone who just was forced into an ice cold shower.  
  
"Hisoka?" Tsuzuki looked over at his partner who proceeded in placing a hand of disbelief on his forehead through a mess of straggly blond bangs, "What's wrong? I'm done explaining. You could stand to ease up a bit."  
  
"I can't believe you led us into a death trap. . ." Hisoka tightened his grip on his forehead, before taking it off entirely and loosing entire control of his patience, ". . . How could you be such an idiot? He's probably watching us right now, waiting for the right moment to catch us off guard."  
  
"You don't have to be so paranoid," Tsuzuki frowned like a scolded puppy, "How are we ever going to catch the murderer if we never even confront him?"  
  
"I guess you do have a point," Hisoka mumbled guiltily, relaxing in an attempt to atone for loosing his temper and insulting his partner, "Just . . . be more careful next time. We can't catch a murderer if he decides to murder us, either." Tsuzuki brightened almost instantly as if he were a dog being praised for retrieving a Frisbee. Hisoka blushed unconsciously as he tried to turn his eyes away from his hyper-excited partner.  
  
"Sirs?" Tsuzuki turned around to find the waiter waiting for acknowledgement of his presence, placing a pastry on each of their plates, "Two peach tarts."  
  
Tsuzuki gave what Hisoka took to be a quick thanks to their waiter in a squeal of delight as he began to eat as Hisoka took the time to thank him properly.  
  
A few minutes passed, and Tsuzuki had long since finished his pastry. Hisoka had barely touched his. After taking a bite or two, he was amused to watch Tsuzuki across the table, inhaling his food as if he hadn't eaten in years. Before Tsuzuki finished it, of course Hisoka had already been well occupied with the case, and a nifty little invention that miraculously escaped the rain. As Tatsumi pointed out, it was 'really the only useful thing Watari's created in years'.  
  
The scientist had been fussing over it for months, making regular trips from various closets and offices to the research room coddling odd items which included a broken toaster, a torn lampshade, and a very intimidating- looking something with five prongs. The end result was quite unexpected, especially to Hisoka, but everyone agreed it was one of Watari's best ideas. It was a kind of immensely powerful computer about the size and shape of a compact mirror that ran on spiritual energy. Its purpose being that the only one able to operate it would be Hisoka, himself, and so the computer's connection to information at the ministry of Hades would be protected from prying eyes.  
  
At least it kept Hisoka busy while Tsuzuki was . . . well, being Tsuzuki. Times like now.  
  
"Are you going to finish that?" Tsuzuki's eyes pleaded with his words as he pointed tentatively to the half-eaten peach tart on Hisoka's plate.  
  
"Mmm, yes, why?" Hisoka answered, only half listening, for he was much too busy recording the information they'd received on the case into his Watari's new invention.  
  
"Because I want it. . ." Tsuzuki trailed off, looking puzzled as he watched his partner continue to become more fascinated with whatever it was that was in his lap, "What are you doing?"  
  
"Recording our information," he explained busily, before a couple muffled beeps were heard from his lap, and Hisoka snapped the compact computer shut and swiftly placed it back in his pocket. And with the crack, almost impulsively, his eyes widened as a flash of a figure in the shadows streaked through his head. Tsuzuki looked up from Hisoka's half-eaten tart to see the fright that lay in his face.  
  
"Is something wro-"  
  
"We're being watched." Hisoka interrupted, knowing, of course, what Tsuzuki was going to say before he said it.  
  
He hadn't made a habit of reading people's minds on purpose, though. Hisoka would do this only when he knew there was something there that was not being kept secret. He would never go any farther than that, nor could he. Many people's secrets as well as emotions are locked away, and this applied to Tsuzuki. There were emotions he could afford to keep on his sleeves and others were locked and bolted away where not even he might find them.  
  
In a similar way, one might think it better to be blind then to face the pain of seeing.  
  
"Let's get out of here," Hisoka shook slightly, gasping and closing his eyes as the surge of power ran through him, "We have to leave. These emotions . . . they're too strong. He might be able to . . . to win on strength of will alone before you even get a chance to fight he. . . he knows it's too risky for you to use a spell in a place like this." Hisoka stumbled up from his chair and made his way to the door.  
  
"Hisoka!" Tsuzuki yelled worriedly as he flung his chair back, almost toppling it, as he ran to help his staggering partner who had apparently just reached the front entrance and crumbled to the floor, perspiring madly, "Hisoka!"  
  
Turning around, Tsuzuki clenched his teeth at his sudden recognition of the same power that had knocked his sensitive partner unconscious. "Who are you?!" he demanded.  
  
Upon receiving no answer, he ran to the table and dished out fifteen pounds that should have covered all the charges and then some.  
  
"Come on, Hisoka," He spoke to the unconscious boy, taking the small boy into his arms in preparation to open the door. Grasping the brass handle, he turned, only to find it locked. In desperation, he turned it the other way as well, and kicked in frustration at the old wood as if he could knock a door of that size about as if it were nothing.  
  
"What IS this?!" Tsuzuki spat angrily at his powerlessness.  
  
Still carrying the boy in his arms, he walked forward to the room where they had eaten, only to blanch at what he saw. It had completely changed.  
  
The white drapes and fresh paint had disappeared, leaving only rotting wood and torn red curtains in their leave. The tables, windows, waiter, everything was gone. Turning around frantically, the lavender-eyed Shinigami saw the door to the outside had changed too. It was clear the previous form of the entire restaurant had been an illusion. He knew there was something strange about there being no people on the streets! It was just an illusion, a lure from the real world. This place was no more a restaurant than Shinigami were alive.  
  
"What is going on?. . . Who are you?!" He demanded once more into the empty darkness, "You coward!"  
  
Looking down at the peaceful face in his arms, Tsuzuki became even angrier at their enemy. Hisoka had been right all along about him rushing into things. He always thought he knew everything, but he apparently knew nothing about common sense.  
  
One thing Tsuzuki was sure of, though, was about the barrier charm. A very powerful barrier charm loomed around the entire place. The brown-haired Shinigami knew that with time the charm would weaken and Byakko and Suzaku would be able to break it, but not right now. Their captor had to know that Tsuzuki was not capable of breaking his spell yet, but Tsuzuki realized this almost instantly. What he also realized that this spell he had cast just now, the one that required him to gather such immense power, must have left their murderer very drained. He would try to get rid of them as quick as possible because of his time limit, but he had a full week.  
  
At the end of the seventh day, the charm would have lost enough strength. All they had to do was stay alive until then.  
  
Tsuzuki smiled bitterly. What a mess he had gotten himself into this time, but more importantly, the mess he'd gotten Hisoka into.  
  
Tripping over the darkness, Tsuzuki followed a beam of light through the house corridors until he came into the drawing room, where rays of light were emitted from the sides of a large set of drapes, obviously hiding the only window he had seen so far which allowed access or sight of the outside. Setting Hisoka down on what seemed to be a couch, Tsuzuki pulled on the drawstring. Shielding his eyes quickly from the sudden burst of light that flooded the room, the Shinigami noticed it should not be so bright. Drawing his hand carefully away from his face, he was taken aback.  
  
It was a beautiful day . . . not a cloud in the sky.  
  
_____________________________________  
  
Thanks for reading ^_^  
  
If you'd drop a review I'd be really happy. This is my first Yami no Matsuei fanfiction, so I'd really love to know how you think I'm doing, and I'd love to hear about anything you think needs to be improved, and I will do my best to improve it.  
  
TBC? You decide. 


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